


On Wings of Icarus

by Scribulus



Series: Making Things Right [1]
Category: Alex Rider - Anthony Horowitz
Genre: Angst, BAMF Alex Rider, F/F, F/M, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Secret Identity, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-13
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2020-01-12 12:29:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18446570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scribulus/pseuds/Scribulus
Summary: Alex Rider is tired. So, so, very tired. He's lived to 26, which is honestly longer than he'd expected to live. He's traveled the world, learned more things than any other human on the planet, and he's just floating through life, still working for MI6.That is, until he's shot. Alex is still slightly pissed off at that. To live all the way to 26 only to be shot by a fucking sniper.But then he wakes up in the past.He's been sent there by the Trio, which are Death, Life and Fate. They've given him the chance to go back and try again, saying that his life shouldn't have ended the way it did.But Alex isn't exactly focused on that, though he knows he should be. Jack is alive. Ian is alive. Everybody is younger, and alive.Alex is determined to make things right. Alex just wants to focus on living in the moment. And he won't let things happen the same way as last time. Alex is going to shake things up.





	1. Prologue

Alex stands on the edge of the pavement. Even though he's in plain sight, the eyes of those passing by slide over him, as if he's invisible.

 

But if they did notice him, they would see a beautiful man, with a lithe and slender frame, packed with lean muscles that made him look like a dancer, and delicate features. He had blond hair and a truly gorgeous face with high cheekbones and thin lips. But the thing they'd probably notice the most was his eyes. They were a melting chocolate brown, but they were not soft in the least. They were hard, cold as steel, with empty, sad depths, eyes that had seen death too many times to count, eyes that had seen his hands painted crimson, in some cases lifeblood still warm.

 

But they couldn't see him, so what would it matter?

 

Alex likes to think of it as one of the many skills he has acquired through his life, along with the 15 different language, 10 different martial arts styles, shooting and knife-throwing skills, even obscure ones like knowing how to fight with a sword and learning how to read 1,500 words a minute.

 

He feels the sudden prickle at the back of his neck. Someone's watching him. That hasn't happened in a long time, but Alex is not nearly as surprised as he guesses he should be.

 

TAIPAN, (Torture, Assasination, Interrogation, Poison, and Annihilation), SCORPIA's successors, have slowly been growing, and believe it or not, they are worse than SCORPIA. And they have been fixated on killing him ever since he'd eliminated SCORPIA after the death of Tom.

 

Inwardly sighing, he turns and walks back into the house. They're good. Alex knows that he is probably going to die soon, but he'd rather not die by the hands of them.

 

But before he can enter the house, he is almost involuntarily distracted by the gasp of a little girl, who has her eyes fixed on him. And that is all they need.

 

The bullet races with deadly accuracy, finding its target, and Alex crumples to the floor. His last thought is _I can't believe I'm going to die by a sniper_ , before his vision fills with black.

 

Alex doesn't know how long it's been, minutes, hours, days, weeks, but he wakes up to white. He's lying on a bed, and he's perfectly fine.

 

Jumping up, he immediately scans his surroundings. It should be impossible that he's alive, Alex has too much experience with bullets to not know that he should be dead.

 

The room is peaceful and quiet, stark and simplistic. Alex's attention is immediately drawn by a door, unlocked and untrapped as far as his sharp eyes can see.

 

Walking cautiously - he might be standing on land mines, for all he knows - Alex opens the door. There's a simple corridor with a few open rooms, but it ultimately seems to lead to the last room at the end of the hallway. Alex makes his way to it, and enters the room, only to freeze.

 

There are three people there, and they all seem to have been waiting for him. There are two males and one female. The male on the left is wearing a black cape and is dressed like he just stepped out of Victorian times, with the full ensemble- top hat, cane, pocket watch and all. He looks to be about in his thirties, but Alex isn't too sure about the fact. Perhaps it's because of his eyes, that burn with black, obsidian flames that seem to suck in light- and life.

 

The female on the right is also wearing a Victorian ensemble, a pale blue and white dress with a pale blue corset, hair done up in complicated tucks and twists. She has white hair and pale blue eyes, and she seems to exude life. Just by being near her, Alex feels healthy and more energized.

 

The last male in the middle, seems to be the youngest of the three, but Alex doesn't believe it one bit. In some cases, appearances are decieving- he does look to be around the same age of Alex, but his eyes are ancient, without colour, eyes that seem to glow like opals in a river, hues shifting, incandescent.

 

The male in the middle smiles rather oddly at Alex, like he knows something, something that Alex does not. "Hello, Mr. Rider. Please, come in and join us."

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter I

Alex shoots up in an oddly familiar bed, body immediately alert. Seeing no immediate threats, Alex allows himself to relax marginally.

 

His mind drifts to memories of what happened only a few hours ago.

 

* * *

 

 

Alex warily walked into the room, and when the man with the opal eyes nodded to the seat that had somehow appeared in front of him, he sat down, trying to figure out where he was, and more importantly, what these people wanted with him.

 

The opal eyed man smiled. "It's a pleasure to meet you face to face. I am Fate, and my companions here are Death," he nods to the other male, "and Life," he nods to the only female.

 

Yeah... No. But as much as Alex wants to desperately refute it, call it an insanity that his mind is making up, he is most definitely not stupid. Alex, in fact, is a genius. And he knows when somebody is lying, he knows when he's hallucinating. But this? This is too real.

 

So he sighs, and decides to go with the flow. "It's nice to meet you Fate, Death, Life." Because honestly, as far as weird shit goes, this isn't too bad. Nobody is trying to kill him, he's pretty sure that they'd healed him.

 

Death turns those icy, forbidding eyes to him. "You seem terribly calm about this," Death says coolly. What should he even call  Death now? He obviously isn't a human, and Alex isn't sure what to classify him as, male, female, other.

 

"I go by he/him," Death says, a distinctly mocking edge to his words.

 

Well, Alex has learned two things. First of all, they can all read minds and have other powers. Secondly, they aren't too happy (or maybe it's just Death, who knows?) about the circumstances that have brought them to meet.

 

Alex has no assumptions that if they didn't like him, or at least want him alive, he would be dead.

 

"Thank you," Alex manages to say politely before his dry sarcasm wins the meagre battle between his logic. Alex might be smart, but it didn't mean that he followed logic al the time. He was more of a spontaneous sort of guy.

 

"I'm afraid I haven't had the pleasure of meeting with Primordials very often, I do apologize for the inconvenience that I may have caused you. I would hate for you not to be satisfied because the person you brought hasn't had proper etiquette lessons in dealing with Primodorials," Alex says sweetly,

 

There was a silence, before Fate and Life both start laughing and Death growls in irritation, before subsiding and deciding to ignore the existence of Alex for the time being.

 

Life smiles. "Well, things haven't changed the least! It's a pleasure to meet you, Alex."

 

"It's nice to meet you too," Alex replies, sensing the sincerity of her words.

 

"I know you must be wondering why you're here," said Fate, having stopped laughing and was now leaning forward in his chair, eyes intense.

 

"Actually, yes." Alex admits. 

 

Fate purses his lips. "To put it bluntly, you weren't supposed to die. Somebody had tampered with your string, and while your life was going to be put through all those tests, it wasn't supposed to happen they way it had. You were supposed to live to at least 60 years, at least 30 of those years spent in peace. To be frank, I don't like it when things mess with the fates of my people," here, his eyes are glowing with barely suppressed anger, and Alex can see Death and Life shrink slightly away from him. Alex couldn't blame them, Fate was terrifying.

 

Fate sat back, letting out a sigh and the choking pressure in the room dissipated, letting Alex breathe a little easier. If this was what Fate was like when irritated, because Alex had no doubt that if Fate ever showed the true extent of his fury, the universe would be wiped out, Alex did not want to see him when he was mad.

 

"So, I have decided to give you a second chance," now Fate was smiling pleasantly. Alex gaped blankly at him.

 

Out of all the things that Alex had thought he'd say, this definitely wasn't one of them. Alex took ahold of himself, composing himself once more. _Okay_ , Alex thought, _so what are the cons?_

 

...

 

Alex couldn't think of any. And please, the pros were rather obvious. He had the chance to fix things. And wasn't that what he had wished for more than anything, to go back into time and change things?

 

But what did they - what did _Fate_ , want for this?

 

"What do you want in return?" Alex asked warily. 

 

Fate blinked, and Death snickered. "Ah, Fate, you should know that you can't pull anything over him. He's the sharpest human that we have ever had the pleasure of seeing and meeting since that fellow, what was his name?"

 

"Alexander the Great," Life supplied, she too looking amused at the expression on Fate's face.

 

"Yes, him." Death focused on Alex. "Fair enough, Alex. When your thread of fate was first spun, it foretold great destinies for you or some sort of rubbish." Effectively ignoring Fate's protest about how destinies were not rubbish, Death continued, unruffled. "What it basically means is that you are more. You're Fate's champion, and in a sort of way, mine and Life's."

 

Alex didn't think he'd ever felt so surprised since the revelation that his father used to work for SCORPIA. Hell, even the revelation that Ian was a spy wasn't as surprising.

 

"What does that mean?" Alex finally asked, after several minutes. His composure had never been so ruffled in his life, and it was throwing him severely off balance.

 

Fate, seemingly have regained _his_ composure (and damn, if Alex wasn't jealous of the fact), smiled at him, looking as if butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. "Oh, nothing much," he said innocently. "Do you accept?.

 

"Yes, but-" before Alex could continue, most likely to get more answers, hell even Alex wasn't sure, Fate clapped his hands together, and with a glint in all three of their eyes, the world began to spin and blur, and Alex blanked out.

 

* * *

 

 

Recalling what had happened, Alex sucked in a sharp breath, and leaped out of the bed, footsteps silent on the carpet, and looked in the mirror.

 

He was really back, Alex realized dazedly. Ian was alive. Tom was alive. _Jack was alive_. Alex immediately checked the calendar by the mirror. He was 9, his 10th birthday months away. That meant he had 5 years, 5 years of relative freedom to fix things.

 

For the first time in a very long time, a smile slowly spread over his face. He was back.

 

And he was going to give Blunt hell.


End file.
